


Everything

by Nival_Vixen



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awesome Lydia, Bisexual Derek Hale, Bisexual Stiles Stilinski, Complete, Derek Hale & Lydia Martin Friendship, Derek Likes Stiles, Derek Uses His Words, Dirty Talk, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Gratuitous Smut, I Blame Tumblr, Idiots in Love, Inspired by GIFs, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, M/M, Masturbation, Matchmaker Lydia, Matchmaking, Multi, Mutual Masturbation, Polyamory, Porn Video, Porn Watching, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Stiles Likes Derek, Threesome, Webcam/Video Chat Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 20:12:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3221894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nival_Vixen/pseuds/Nival_Vixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia is determined to get Stiles and Derek together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the gifset [here on Tumblr](http://nivalvixen.tumblr.com/post/108970856447/lydia-is-a-great-lousy-friend-started-off-being).  
> (I don't think this is what the OP had in mind, but oh well)

Lydia is sick of Stiles and Derek tiptoeing around each other. It's obvious that Stiles likes Derek and Derek likes Stiles, but for some reason, neither of them seem to believe that the other actually likes them. She's told both of them to man up and ask each other out (usually after she's had to listen to them bitching about the other - _the self-sacrificing martyr doesn't want me to help the pack -- the hyperactive idiot almost got himself killed! Again!_ ), but all it does is make them stumble over their words and avoid looking at each other at the next pack meeting.

After all of this time, Lydia can say that Derek and Stiles are both her best friends, and she likes to think that she's theirs too, never mind the epic bromance Stiles and Scott have. Despite the friendship between the three of them, even Lydia can get annoyed with Stiles and Derek. The unresolved sexual tension between the two men is grating on her nerves, especially when they stop midway through defeating the monster of the week to argue and snipe at each other.

After a swamp monster ruins her favourite pair of shoes because Stiles and Derek are too busy arguing, Lydia decides that she's going to get them together. She's played matchmaker before with Scott and Kira, Mason and Brett, even helped Liam and Malia get together. She's proud of her skills as a matchmaker, never mind her own current lack of a relationship. Lydia's positive that she'll have Stiles and Derek together sooner rather than later, if only for the sake of her shoes.

...

Stiles is surprised and a little suspicious that Lydia's knocking on his front door, especially since his father only left like five minutes ago, but Lydia smiles sharply and makes her way inside without waiting for an invitation. Okay, whatever, at least he knows she's not a vampire or something.

"What's up, Lyds?"

"I need to use your computer. Parrish has the bestiary, my laptop's died, and I really need to do some research," Lydia says, holding up her USB.

"Uh, the library has..."

"A lot of screaming children that I do not have the patience for today. Now, are you going to let me use your computer, or should I risk the others' lives by not finding out what this thing is?" she states plainly, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah, okay. What're you looking for, anyway? No one told me about there being a new threat."

"It's only a theory so far, Stiles, don't worry," Lydia says, patting him on the arm as she slips past him to go to his bedroom.

"If it's a theory, how am I risking anyone's life by not letting you use my computer?" Stiles asks after her; Lydia just hums in response and doesn't answer.

Stiles hadn't locked his laptop when he'd gone downstairs to open the door, and he walks into his room to find Lydia sitting at his desk, already typing away on his keyboard. He paces for a few seconds, contemplating demanding more information about this monster - he might know it by description without the bestiary, and Lydia can leave so he can get back to his plans for the evening. Stiles turns to ask her, and then tilts his head to the side, realising that something's wrong.

"You... You haven't plugged the USB in. Lydia, what are you doing?" Stiles says, wary and really freaking confused right about now.

"Mm?" she responds, not looking away from the screen. "Don't worry, Stiles, you'll thank me for this one day."

Before he can question her, Lydia smirks a bit and then Stiles recognises his own voice from the small laptop speakers.

"Uh... What are you looking at?" he asks, fearing the worst.

There's a soft moan from the laptop, his own voice moaning Derek's name, and Stiles thinks that right now would be a perfect time for aliens to exist, descend on Earth, and kidnap him.

"Kinda looks like some Stilinski porn to me," she replies, looking over at him with a raised eyebrow as she continues to type, and he knows that he's screwed.

Stiles isn't stupid, all right? He knows his crush on Derek is the size of Texas and everyone except Derek seems to know about it. Lydia's told him time and time again that he should ask Derek out, that Derek likes him just as much, and yeah, sure, the last time he'd scoffed at her suggestion, Lydia had threatened to take matters into her own hands. He hadn't believed her, and now it looks like she's following through on her threat.

"Please don't do what I think you're going to do!"

There's a soft whooshing sound from his laptop, just like the sound that's made when an email is sent, and Stiles stares at Lydia for a second.

"Too late."

"Do you realise what you've done?" Stiles asks, eyes wide. "Derek's going to kill me, you realise that, don't you?"

Lydia looks uncertain for a second, then shakes her head. "He won't kill you. Maim, maybe."

Stiles groans, sinks to his knees and barely resists the urge to smack his head against his desk.

...

It's rare for Derek to be on his laptop, preferring to read physical books, to hold them and have something tangible in his hands rather than a flat surface and a backlit screen. He'd usually spend his Saturday reading his latest book, but this morning he's pacing in front of the laptop, waiting for whatever urgent email Lydia said she was going to send to him. He'd contemplated not turning the laptop on anyway - if she couldn't tell him what was going on via text or phone call, just how urgent could it be? - but his curiosity had won over him, and Derek had spent the last hour pacing in front of his computer.

Finally, just as Derek's ready to call Lydia and get this whole thing sorted, email or not, he hears a loud ping come from his laptop. He winces, the sound's up higher than he remembers it being - probably from the movie Stiles had watched last week - and resolves to tell Stiles yet again to turn the laptop's volume down the next time he sees him. He presses the button himself until it's at a more suitable level for his hearing, then opens Lydia's email.

He doesn't really know what he was expecting, but since it was Lydia and it had been almost an hour and a half since her original text message, Derek honestly thought he'd receive more than a line of text and a link.

_Click the link & don't say I never gave you anything - L_

It's a link to a video, one that's only been recently added to the Google Drive account, and it's private. The email has only been sent to him, not the rest of the pack, and Derek worries that it's something from his past that's come back to threaten their lives again, and Lydia's decided to warn him before the rest of the pack. Then he shakes his head because Kate and Jennifer are both dead, and Braeden is still happily working with Agent McCall in the FBI and hasn't been around for almost two years, their mutual breakup the first good ending to a relationship he's ever had.

Derek impatiently waits for the video to finish loading and quickly presses play. He frowns slightly when he sees a pair of sweats on the screen, the camera a bit wobbly as a hand moves to squeeze the obviously hard cock over the material. There's a moan, then the sweatpants are shoved down, the revealed plaid boxers not doing a thing to hide the person's hard cock.

"What the hell?" Derek hisses, standing up straight, eyes widening as he quickly presses pause, the hand stuck in mid-stroke.

Derek frowns, wondering why on Earth _Lydia_ would have sent him that video. He glances back to his screen, frown deepening when he realises he recognises the hand. He's stared at those hands almost as long as he's stared at the owner's lips and face and the moles that dot his cheek and neck. Mouth dry, Derek belatedly realises that the moan he heard in the video was his own name. _No, that's not... It can't be real_. It has to be a joke. A cruel joke that Lydia and Stiles are both in on, surely?

He has to be sure, doesn't want to berate either of them until he's got all of the information, so Derek sits on his chair, and starts the video again from the very beginning.

Derek watches the video eight times in a row before he decides how he wants to respond.

...

"I am so dead," Stiles groans, face pressed against his desk after all. "I'm going to die because I masturbated; that's supposed to be a myth! Derek is actually going to tear my throat out with his teeth! Death by werewolf is not something I want written on my headstone, Lyds."

Lydia snorts, though she is a little worried because it's been fifteen minutes and the video she'd sent to Derek was only a few minutes long. It was one of Stiles' earlier videos, and apparently, he'd been too worried about being discovered masturbating on camera to last very long. Lydia has been a little bored since there's been no response from Derek and had a look for herself - Stiles doesn't seem to care now - and he's right. The last video he'd made was only a few weeks ago and lasted nearly nine minutes, and he was obviously well into his 'happy fun alone time'. There was a half a minute of him lying back on his bed, naked, sweaty, and swearing, muttering about sourwolves and stupid stubble, and Lydia doesn't know if she wants to laugh, pat his head in sympathy, or join him.

"Can you stop watching them now? I'd really like for my porn stash **not** to be evidence at my murder scene," Stiles groans, banging his head against his desk.

"Stop worrying, Stiles. Derek's not going to kill you," Lydia replies exasperatedly. "In fact, he's probably having his own _happy fun alone time_ while watching your video."

The noise stops abruptly and Stiles lifts his head to look at her, licking his lips and eyes bright. "You think so?"

Lydia doesn't really know what to say to that, mostly because she's started thinking of it herself and is turned on by the thought too. She briefly wonders if they'll let her watch when they finally get together; it's been too long since Aiden, and Parrish made it clear she wasn't his type. She hasn't been kissed in months, and Lydia has needs that her toys just aren't equipped to deal with, not with her two hands alone.

There's a noise from the laptop, and Stiles stands up so quickly he almost falls over his own feet.

"Shit, shit, he's replied. Lydia, what do I do? No, it's what  _you_ have to do. You open it, tell me if I'm going to die," Stiles babbles.

"Calm down first, or I'll delete the email without looking at it," Lydia threatens, and Stiles inhales exaggeratedly before he breathes properly and kneels beside her to peek at the laptop screen between his fingers.

"Okay, I'm ready," Stiles says, voice muffled.

Lydia rolls her eyes and clicks on the email to open it. No written essay, no berating, no judgement, just a link.

"Do we click it? What if it's a video of Derek showing me what he's going to kill me with?" Stiles asks.

"Stop whining, Stiles, it doesn't suit you. Stick to sarcasm," Lydia quips, clicking on the link.

There's a brief flash of lens glare before the camera on the laptop screen is tilted down slightly and they can see Derek. His cheeks are red, but they don't know if it's in anger, embarrassment, or something else all together.

"Lydia, I'm assuming you sent this video with Stiles' permission. Stiles, I'm assuming you meant most of the things you said in the video. If I'm wrong with either assumption, turn the video off now."

Stiles lowers his hands slowly and he glances to Lydia in confusion. She really doesn't know what to make of Derek's response either and shrugs.

"If you haven't turned it off..." Derek takes a deep breath, as if steadying his nerves, and he pulls his shirt off abruptly, his blush continuing around his cheeks to his ears.

Stiles wants to make a disgusting noise at the sight of Derek's pink tipped ears combined with his gorgeous body and _those abs_ , but he doesn't think he can do it without thoroughly embarrassing himself. Lydia's already watched his stash of homemade porn, that's enough embarrassment for one day, surely?

"Stiles, you brat, look what you did to me," Derek says, his voice almost a growl as he tilts the laptop screen downwards further.

Stiles and Lydia both gasp, and Stiles is pretty sure his mouth is hanging open like an idiot. Derek freaking Hale has his dick out on camera. Lydia quickly pauses the video because they seriously need to regroup.

"Holy fuck, look at that! He can kill me with that as many times as he likes," Stiles groans, breathless.

"Uh, should I leave?" Lydia asks hesitantly, gaze drawn longingly to the screen. It shouldn't surprise her that Derek's dick is as gorgeous as the man himself; she's got eyes and they've _seen_  Derek.

"No, no, you have to stay and make sure I'll survive this. Just ignore any boners, okay?"

Lydia, of course, looks down and sees that Stiles is hard in his jeans already. She shouldn't be so surprised, she's not unaffected herself, and resists the urge to squirm on the chair.

"Just don't get any cum on my outfit," she drawls, turning back to the computer.

Lydia pointedly ignores the sound of Stiles' zipper being lowered, but she can't stop the slight blush in response to the groan of relief Stiles lets out when his hard cock is free from the confine of his jeans. She presses play and they both fall silent to watch Derek.

"Want to do everything you said, want to press you up against your door and rim you until you're begging. Lydia would watch, since she's got such a vested interest in us fucking each other, and I'd fuck you and tell her just how hot and tight your ass is."

There's a curse from beside her, and Lydia glances to Stiles to see him wrench open a desk drawer for lube. Wordlessly, she holds her hand out for the bottle herself. Stiles looks torn between amazed and smug, but after he's got a good dollop on his palm, he hands her the tube. Lydia stands, eyes returning to the video where Derek's stroking his cock with firm and certain strokes, looking at the camera like he can see exactly what they're doing, and she slides her knickers down to her thighs.

"By the end of that, she'd want you as much as I do, but we'd need to thank her first, bring her to at least four orgasms before she gets either of our cocks."

"Fuck. Who knew Derek was into dirty talk?" Stiles moans, hand slick and sliding along his cock in time with Derek's motions.

Lydia agrees full-heartedly. This is the longest she's heard from Derek in one go, and it's amazing to hear all of the dirty things he's thinking actually being spoken aloud. Her knickers slip down to her ankles and she shuffles around on the chair, legs spread until she can comfortably slip a hand under her skirt.

"Then, when Lydia's wet and desperate for relief, I'd get you to fuck her while I fucked you, bending you over her body as I fuck you and make you both beg for more."

"Oh, fuck yes," Stiles groans.

Lydia agrees with a breathless little noise, thumb circling her clit as she watches Derek change the angle of his stroke slightly, a twist to his wrist as he pulls up on his dick. Despite the earlier nerves and blushing, Derek seems surprisingly comfortable in front of the camera. She wonders if he thought they wouldn't watch this far into the video and that bolstered his confidence.

"Are you watching this together? I bet you are, bet Stiles is stroking his cock and wishing it was me, and Lydia's fingers are curled up inside of her pussy already and wishing the same thing. You going to keep touching yourselves, or each other? Stiles fingers, fuck. Lydia, you can't tell me you haven't imagined those fingers inside of you, just like I have? Imagine them wrapped around my cock, buried in me, buried in you. Fuck, he'd be so fucking good at it. And that mouth, that mouth on any part of your body, it would be amazing. He'd be so fucking eager and wet, and with the amount of times he licks his lips, think of that on your pussy, around my cock. Fuck, Stiles, she's got to be so wet by now."

"Lyds, fuck. Can... Please? I need... You want this too, right?" Stiles asks, eyes wide, cheeks pink, and Derek's right, his mouth is so shiny and plump and Lydia wants those lips buried between her legs.

"Yes. Hurry up," Lydia says, swivelling around in the chair until her legs are on either side of Stiles' body.

He doesn't hesitate, immediately gets his head under her skirt, fingers firm and deft as they rub and part her lips gently. Derek's still talking on the screen, words getting further in between and Lydia watches his cock jerk and twitch in his grasp, his fingers moving faster and Stiles tongue sliding along her, one hand moving her leg so it's hooked over his shoulder. Derek's words fall away completely as he comes with an actual howl, and Stiles groans, tongue buried in her and thumb circling her clit until Lydia can't stop from arching and writhing against his tongue.

 _All of that talking of his has sure made his tongue talented_ , Lydia thinks dazedly, her thighs squeezing his head firmly as Stiles continues to lick and tease her, Lydia's orgasm coming upon her like a wave. She doesn't scream, not anymore, but the moan of desire that escapes her is real. Lydia's faked the whole of three orgasms before - she has no time for those that don't give her what she wants - and she never thought that Stiles would be one to get a real orgasm out of her. It's certainly a pleasant surprise.

On the screen, Derek's swiping the stripes of cum off his chest, eyes lidded as he licks and sucks his own fingers. Underneath her skirt, Stiles is panting heavily against her pussy, head resting on the chair as he brings himself to orgasm as well, hand stroking fast and firm. He comes with a soft groan, the rush of air warm and hot against her sensitive skin.

"If you want more, you've got my number," Derek says, and the video finally ends.

"Fuck. Where's my phone?" Stiles mutters, practically falling out from under her skirt, his chin wet and lips still shiny.

"I'll call," Lydia says, taking up her phone from beside the laptop before she tugs Stiles up to her lap to kiss him firmly.

He makes a noise, clearly surprised, but kisses her back eagerly, hands flitting from her shoulders to her hips and back up, obviously unsure where to hold her or even if he can. Lydia finds that she doesn't mind his sudden abashed response, her free hand calling Derek's number while she uses her other to still Stiles' hands on her hips. Stiles seems to sag in relief against her at that, and resumes his attention on kissing her. Being the full focus of Stiles' attention is a surprisingly good thing, and Lydia discovers he's a very fast learner. He squeezes her hips, nips at her lip, licks his way into her mouth, flicks his tongue against hers, and she almost forgets that she's called Derek and has him on speakerphone.

"Fuck. Is this for me, or in retaliation?" Derek asks, voice almost pleading, and it's only then that Lydia realises she's actually making soft and breathless noises in response to Stiles' kiss.

"For you. Get in here, sourwolf. I know you've been waiting outside for the last ten minutes," Stiles says with a smug expression.

Lydia hangs up and pulls Stiles back to kiss him again, and Derek climbs in through the window seconds later. He watches them both for a moment, both Lydia and Stiles watching him as they continue to kiss, and Derek raises an eyebrow slightly.

"How'd you know I was out there anyway?"

Stiles pulls away and stands, not ashamed of the fact his jeans are bunched up around his thighs and his cock's half-hard, his shirt spotted with still wet cum. Lydia's curious to the answer as well and watches him expectantly.

"Brooding radar," he replies with a smirk and then shrugs. "I knew you wouldn't be able to resist seeing firsthand what our response was. What do you think, Lyds? Have we given him enough of a show?"

"He hasn't seen anything yet," Lydia replies, kissing Stiles firmly.

He responds immediately, but before they can get too far, Stiles is tugged away from her and Lydia is guided up onto her feet abruptly. She finds herself kissing Derek a second later, his hands sliding down her sides to rest on her hips. Kissing Derek is different than kissing Stiles, despite him being a fast learner. Where Stiles is warm and wet and eager, Derek is hot and firm and experienced, and Lydia is a little surprised to find she likes both kisses equally. She likes being in control with Stiles, teaching him how to kiss, what turns her own, learning the same from him, their kisses going from soft to firm in seconds. With Derek, it's hard and fast, melting to soft and sweet, lips and tongues slick as they kiss.

The kiss with Derek turns filthy as his hands caress under her skirt to find her ass bare. His fingers dig into her to lift and hold her against his body, his stubble harsh against her skin as he deepens their kiss. Lydia clings to Derek's shoulders tightly, kissing him back and giving back as much as she's given.

Stiles moves up behind her, warmth radiating from him, and he slips his hand between her thighs, his fingers curling and stroking inside of her in a moment. Derek pulls back, lips swollen as he grins at her, eyes dark with lust, and Lydia grins back a little dazedly. He kisses her again, nuzzles against her neck before he sets her down carefully, like she's something precious rather than something fragile. Stiles' fingers slip free of her reluctantly, and Lydia watches Derek manhandle Stiles until they're pressed up against each other, Stiles' wet fingers curled into the material of Derek's shirt. They kiss as if it's the last time, not the first, desperate and longing and so very eager. They look like they fit together, no awkwardness between them, even though Stiles is half-naked, his jeans removed while Derek and Lydia were kissing. They look like they belong together, and Lydia doesn't know if she'll fit within their little world.

She finds her knickers under Stiles' desk and slips her shoes back on. Lydia's about to clear her throat to get them to move from the doorway when they finally pull apart, Derek looking at her over Stiles' shoulder. Stiles huffs out a breath within Derek's embrace and turns around to face her as well.

"What's wrong, Lyds?" Stiles asks, licking his lips.

"Nothing. You and Derek both have what you wanted, so my work here is done," she says, and she knows her smirk falls flat.

"No, we don't," Derek says, voice rough.

Stiles shakes his head immediately, agreeing with Derek. "Wouldn't be right without you, Lyds."

Lydia looks between them, wondering if she was the piece that was missing from them this whole time, wonders if she could really leave them now that she knows just how good they could be, the three of them together. Derek and Stiles are both silent as they wait patiently, and she can see Stiles squeezing Derek's hand so tight it's turning white. They really mean it.

"I seem to remember you promising to give me four orgasms," Lydia says, moving to sit on the bed and grin over at them.

"Thank fuck," Stiles groans, pulling Derek over to her without a moment of hesitation.

Derek presses a kiss to the spot below her ear. "You were wrong in your email, Lydia. I'd never say that you never gave me anything. You and Stiles, you've both given me everything."

She might not be a werewolf, able to pick out a lie in the pulse of someone's heart, but Lydia knows he means it.

...

The end.

Thanks for reading.


End file.
